"An eevee? Nice starter. I'm sure it'll be a hit at the beauty contest when you quit training." A snide voice cut into my thoughts. I glanced to my right. The trainer was about my age, weedy, with an expression that told me it wasn't a compliment. By his side, a bayleef nosed the carpet, looking for grass. A bayleef - no wonder I felt so fucking irritated.
Keeping a picture perfect smile on my face, I responded, "Oh my gosh, I didn't know they offered scholarships to special needs trainers too! Did you ride here on the short ponyta?"
He ignored my jab, and jerked his chin at my eevee. "They may be good for quick elemental harrying in their evolutions, but they fall off in high competition where you're forced to stand and trade." He smiled nastily. "I guess the Oak name isn't all it's hyped up to be if they're dumb enough to try bringing lab pokemon into the arena."
I held the smile as I ticked off several boxes in my head. Insulting my family, skills, talking like he knew better than me, and expecting me to fall for his pathetic attempts at baiting, check. Even with a noseful of bayleef musk jazzing me up I could see his ploy coming from a mile away.
I was surprised to find myself pissed by his jab at my pokemon. Even if I was somewhat unenthused by her myself, you didn't insult a man's starter - it just wasn't done. I wasn't about to let anyone but me talk smack about my furry little disappointment.
"Alright, you shit excuse for a mareep-fucking hedge trainer, you want to talk strategy?" I replied pleasantly, in an even tone completely unsuited for the bombs I was dropping. "You've been feeding that bayleaf expensive product to accelerate its growth. Maybe not candy - you might not be that stupid - but high class fertilizer, Celadon Gym stuff. You probably saw that Johto Finalist whats-her-name two years back with the meganium who wrecked half Bruno's team with doping pheromones and were inspired to pay out the ass for a chikorita, I'm guessing?"
The catapult swung like a pendulum. The trainer next to me sat down. I'd be next.
"Here's the catch - meganiums don't actually have any killer instinct worth a crap. They are fucking worthless at champion-level, let alone at the big shabang itself. That lady got around it because she'd been training it since its first evolution to fight like a houndoom and tank like a golem, and even then she only just evolved it from a bayleef in time for the match, so it'd have the all the aggression-suppressing hormones and other shit-ruining powders that confused Bruno's fighters into shooting themselves in the foot, without the peaceful herbivore nature that takes over when they reach that age. And even with all that preparation she still rotated it out the next year because it got too mild. I think I see some flowering around the edges of yours, so it won't be long now. It's really sad when you step back and look at it. All that money you blew, and the most you've managed to do is fuck yourself over."
I gave him the patented Oak fuck-you smirk, perfected over generations as the pre-emptive fuel for epic burns and timeless one-liners.
"A gayleef? Nice starter." I said. "I'm sure it'll be a big hit at the oddish farm when you fail training."